


Better Than Revenge

by essex_dogs



Category: Blur (Band), Britpop - Fandom, Damon Albarn - Fandom, Elastica (Band), Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds (Band), Oasis (Band), liam gallagher - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Romance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, Multi, Revenge, Romance, Slow Burn, but i love a himbo/posh combo, idk why my brain works this way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:07:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26575735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essex_dogs/pseuds/essex_dogs
Summary: Liam needs revenge on Damon. Justine is the perfect accomplice.
Relationships: Brett Anderson/Justine Frischmann, Damon Albarn/Justine Frischmann, Damon Albarn/Liam Gallagher, Liam Gallagher/Justine Frischmann
Comments: 35
Kudos: 44





	1. Proposition

Justine knows when she is being watched. After dating one of the most thirsted after boys of the 20th century, every camera and gaze pointed her way puts her on alert. And right now, she is being watched by Liam Gallagher. 

He is across the room, staring at her as she tries to continue a conversation with Donna about Adam Ant’s jawline. As they talk, Justine scans the house party for her boyfriend. She sees the usual Britpop-and God how she hates that term- crowd talking and laughing in little groups scattered across the cozy apartment of some record executive, but she doesn’t see Damon. 

“Justine,” Donna says. “That Gallagher boy is making his way over.” 

“Ignore him,” Justine says. “If he thinks I’m going to talk to him after that lewd comment he made on Smash Hi-” 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” 

Justine turns quickly, nearly spilling her drink. People are starting to stare. 

“Liam. What do you want?” 

Her heart pounds, and she wonders what stupid antic he’s going to pull. But as she studies his face, his dark brows and the curve of his nose, she’s surprised to see that the usual sleepy smile of his is set into a flat line. 

“We need to talk business.” 

And before she knows it, her boyfriend’s arch nemesis is taking her hand, guiding her through the crowded party to the fire escape. 

She tries to protest, but he ignores her. She follows him up the stairs, cool air flowing through the London night. She can see the city lit up beneath her, neon signs adorning classic architecture, tourists and locals alike milling about in the streets. 

When they make it to the rooftop, Justine pulls her hand away. 

Liam rolls his eyes. “I’m here to offer you a proposition,” he says. 

“I’ll die before doing an Oasis song.” 

“That's just poor taste. No wonder you’re stuck with a twat like Albarn. Tell me, Justine, do you know where he is?” 

Normally, she throws out a line about how her and Damon are too advanced to care about norms. She lies, all the time, about how the one-sided serial infidelity in her relationship doesn’t hurt her. 

But somehow here, on the rooftop of someone else’s apartment, watching Liam’s sharp features glow in moonlight, she can’t bring herself to speak the usual excuse. 

“No,” Justine says softly. “Do you?” 

Liam nods and looks out at the city below him. 

“I know where he is. He’s taking my ex bird up to some fancy apartment to spend the night. He was chatting her up for ages.” 

His voice catches on the last words, and Justine watches in amazement as a tear forms in the corner of his eye. 

Noticing her gaze, Liam sniffs, punching away the single tear with a brush of his fist. 

“Just ‘cause I’m stupid don’t mean I’m not capable of feelings,” Liam says. “You’ve let Albarn’s leash too loose, and I need revenge.” 

Justine smiles despite herself. The way Liam talks about Damon is so similar to the way Damon talks about Brett. All angst-ridden little boys, hell-bent on destroying one another. 

“Good luck,” Justine says. “All you Britpop boys can have fun tearing each other apart.” 

“You don’t get it,” says Liam, moving closer. A grin cracks his face, and his eyes grow more electric with every step he takes towards her. “I need _you_.”

Justine tries to step away, and before she knows it, her back is pressed against the rooftop barrier. For a moment, she imagines her body flailing down into the night air, breaking onto the cobblestone below. She closes her eyes and feels Liam's hands pulling her towards him. 

She sees his lips, centimeters from hers. 

“I think little revenge,” Liam says, “would do us both some good.”


	2. Shoulder to Shoulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evil plans are penned on kebab shop napkins

Liam reaches across the table for Justine’s fries, though his own plate has a perfectly ample amount. 

“Eat your own-” 

“Shhh,” says Liam, taking a bite. “The guru is makin’ up his plan.” 

For the first time all night, Justine misses Damon. Though he may abandon her for every blonde with long legs, he doesn’t chew with his mouth open. Still, she can't deny that Liam has been very interesting company. She was surprised when he held the cab door open for her, and even more surprised that the place he had brought her to eat, a little kebab shop on an empty street, was his favorite “after Peggy’s kitchen,” whatever that meant. 

“Okay,” says Liam. “I’ve got it.” 

Justine stops musing and realizes her plate is completely empty. 

“ _Liam.”_

“Listen,” he says, kicking her under the greasy table. His blue eyes sparkle with signature Gallagher mischief. “What does Damon hate more than anything in the world?” 

“You?” guesses Justine. 

Liam smiles proudly. “Close. Try again.” 

“Um, Brett? Noel? Bono?” 

Liam throws a fry from his own plate at Justine, and it lands on her neck. 

“I thought youse was university smart! _Why_ does he hate us?” 

“Because he hates losing,” says Justine with a smile. “He hates being shown up.” 

Liam raises his hands to the heavens. 

“Bingo. Here’s the plan.” 

Liam scoots his chair around the table so he is shoulder to shoulder with Justine. She can smell cigarette smoke and hair gel, and the latter scent is almost endearing. He grabs a napkin, and then a pen which looks very familiar. 

“Honestly, did you take that from my purse?” 

“Oh, come on Justine. You fell asleep in the cab! You were practically begging to get robbed.” 

Justine rolls her eyes and tries to read Liam’s horrific handwriting filling the napkin. 

_Top Secrit Plan_ , he writes.

_Step 1: Justine on Oasis song, maybe Top of the Pops???_

“Oh please,” says Justine. As if Noel would ever let that happen.” 

Liam pats Justine’s head, as if she’s the one that’s three years younger, rather than the other way around. “That bastard will do anything for extra money and attention, don’t you worry darling.” 

"I can hardly stand _you_ , let alone two of you! And my band will hate me, Liam. Honestly, they'll hate me forever. Think of something else." 

"Okay, how's this: whatever song we make, we'll cut you 30 of profit." 

"70" 

"50" 

"Fine. It better be a brilliant song, then." 

"We don't make any other kind of songs," says Liam. 

_Step 2: Start to PARTY with Oasis :)_

Justine thinks back to all the parties she’s been to with the other Elastica members. Every time, without fail, they end with Annie, Donna, and Justin taking their smack and spoons up to a room without her to turn into lifeless corpses strewn out on the floor. The temptation to follow them into those closed doors has been weighing on her every passing day. She doesn’t want to be the sober tour mother anymore, and can’t stand when they call her the Fuhrer behind her back. Maybe with Liam, she can find a way to relax without destroying herself completely.

It's a shame she genuinely hates him. 

_Step 3: Get “caught” by paparazzi_

_Step 4: Get caught by Damon_

_Step 5: Fall madly in love and get marrie-_

“In your dreams Gallagher.” 

Liam taps the pen against her forehead. "It's all about, what's the word? Contentment." 

"It's _commitment_. How are you so daft?"

Before he can reach for another fry to throw at her, she catches his hand and holds it tight. 

“Don’t you dare,” she warns. 

“Look at that! You’re tryna hold my hand already.” 

In the store window’s reflection, Justine watches Liam stare her down. Next to Damon, she always feel strange, other worldly, alien. Her nose feels too big and her hair feels too short. But Liam and her, they look like the same breed of beautiful strange. 

Liam follows her gaze. 

“We look proper cool together,” he says. “Proper cool. Albarn’s going to piss himself.” 

Justine lets Liam’s hand fall. She stands, and runs a hand through her hair. “All right,” she says. “I’ve got to head home now. It’s late. You’ll call later then?” 

“You sound excited.” 

“Oh, shut up idiot. It’s never going to happen between us. You're insufferable.” 

And then she leaves, stepping out into London at 2 AM. She’s not sure where home is from here, or if there’s any cabs even running. All she knows is, for the first time in forever, she’s looking forward to tomorrow.


	3. Two Sheep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After falling into Damon's charms again, Justine is about to have second thoughts. But Liam, with all of his idiocy, is nothing if not persistent.

His cheeks are rosy from sleep or lipstick stains, Justine isn’t quite sure. Either way, he looks beautiful. 

Damon’s leg is wrapped over Justine’s thighs, and his heavy arm is placed securely over Justine’s waist, so she’s trapped under him and their white duvet. She takes in his features, illuminated by soft sunlight flowing in from the french doors of their balcony. 

His blonde hair, getting darker at the roots, is tousled against the pillow and his soft pink lips are pulled slightly apart, a thin line of drool snaking down the corner of his mouth. 

He stirs, a small warm exhale, and then his eyelids opening, bright blue eyes clouded by sleep. 

“Justine,” he says. His voice is always deeper and hoarser in the morning. “I dreamt of you all last night.” 

“Liar,” says Justine. 

And then he smiles, sleep quickly fading from his eyes. He pulls his arms around her tighter and kisses her lips softly, then her forehead, her eyelids, her chin, her neck. 

His mouth attempts to move lower, but then last night’s memories come flooding back to her. She remembers Liam on the rooftop, Damon nowhere to be found. 

“Stop,” she says. “Damon, not now.” 

“Tease,” he says, and kisses her collarbone defiantly. 

Justine pushes his head away, and uses all her force to wriggle out of his hold. She sits up, and Damon sighs, following her lead and placing his head against the headboard, looking up at the ceiling. 

“Would you like to argue, darling?” he says. 

“Don’t be an ass.Who were you with last night?”

“Does it matter?”

“ _Damon._ ” 

“I was drunk Justine, drunk and bored, I hardly remember.” 

She kicks his foot under the sheets. She is trying to pass this off playfully, but he’s too smart, and he’s known her too long. 

His hand finds hers and he holds it tight, running his thumb over hers. Justine stares out of the french doors, trying to focus on the bustling morning in Notting Hill, rather than Damon. Crying now would be too embarrassing. 

“I thought you were okay with this right? Tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing.” 

“Justine, look at me.” His voice is low, pleading. She feels a small kiss on her cheek. “Was it someone off-limits? A friend of yours?” 

She’s about to say _no, a friend of Liam’s_ but catches herself. Ah, last night’s plan. 

It seems ridiculously childish in retrospect. Fake dating to get back at Damon? He hasn’t done anything particularly wrong, it was _her_ that agreed to be with him on his terms. And Liam was hardly a faithful angel to be defended. 

“No,” she says quickly. “I didn’t know her. I just missed you last night.” 

She dares to look at Damon and shivers from the intense oceans turning in his eyes. He sighs and kisses her forehead, then her nose. she can feel his weight shifting on to her, and their lips are inches apart. 

“I love you, and only you,” he says. “Your mind, your body, everything. The rest are just cheap thrills for when we’re apart, you know that right?” 

“Yes,” says Justine breathlessly. Her mind is other places now, and all is forgiven. 

When they make it out of the bedroom an hour or so later, their morning breakfast together is ruined by the telephone ringing. They don’t recognize the number. 

Damon takes a sip of his tea and grins across the table at Justine. “Fifty pounds it’s The Sun,” he says. “Whatever would they want from us?” 

“Probably want us us to confess,” she says wiggling her brows. “Confess to _murder_.” 

“Or drug trafficking.” 

“Or unironically liking U2” 

“Or being closeted Oasis fans.” 

The comment makes Justine freeze. _Liam_. Was he really going to call? 

The phone starts to ring again, and Damon sighs, moving to answer. “I’ll just answer yes to everything,” he says, and Justine jumps up. 

“Stop!” she says. 

“Joking! I’m going to tell them to fuck off, but you all right?” 

She ignores him and rushes to the phone before an incriminating voicemail can fill their sunny apartment. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello, slag,” sings Liam. 

“Good morning,” says Justine tightly. “I’m afraid you have the wrong number.” 

“Piss off,” says Liam. “Come out right now.” 

“You’re outside? Now? Are you mad?” 

“Of fucking course,” says Liam. “I’m offended you even have to ask.” 

“Who’s outside?” says Damon behind her. 

“Let me check,” says Justine. Her heart pounds so fiercely it hurts, and she prays Damon doesn’t follow her to the window. Sure enough, there’s Liam in a red button-down and giant sunglasses, waving at her from the payphone booth across the street. 

“Come out or I’m coming in,” he says. Even from this far away, Justine can see his stupid grin glinting in the sunshine. 

“Fine,” says Justine. “Just don’t move an inch.” 

Justine hangs up the phone and turns to look at Damon, who is lying on the living room couch, giving her a strange stare she can’t decipher. 

“A friend of yours?” 

Justine runs a hand through her hair and smooths her sweating palms against her shorts. “Yeah, some idiot trying to get Elastica to collab with him,” she says. “I hardly know him, but if I don’t hear him out he’ll keep coming back.” 

She waits for Damon to question further, but he just gives her a tight nod. “All right,” he says. “Just be back for dinner tonight.” 

“I’ll be back way before then,” says Justine. “ I’ll-” 

“Yeah yeah,” says Damon waving a hand. “Go on, don’t want to keep your admirer waiting, now do you?” 

By the time Justine gets to Liam, he’s been waiting 20 minutes. He is sitting on a bench next to the payphone, angrily watching his shoes as people pass him on the walkway, the few that recognize him not daring to interrupt him now. The back of his shirt and the tips of his hair are soaked with sweat, and his mouth is twisted in an angry scowl that makes him almost look like Noel. 

“Bitch,” he says as Justine approaches. He stands and points a finger at her chest. “I’ll fucking kill you.” 

“Please,” says Justine rolling her eyes. “You poor baby.” 

“I’m not kidding Justine, if you dress like a boy you’ve got to own up to the consequences, I won’t spare you.” 

Truth be told, Justine _does_ feel a little bad. She had meant to leave as early as possible, but somehow none of her outfits seemed right. After three frustrating changes, she’s settled on a tight black halter top and baggy jeans. She doesn’t know why she felt the need to look good in front of Liam of all people, but it’s probably because she wants him to know how much better she is than him. Or something like that. 

As if reading her mind, Liam grins. “Actually, I think I will spare you. Your tits look fantastic.” 

Justine punches his arm, hard, and he cries out, clutching himself in agony. She glares at him and walks ahead, speeding past the colorful buildings of Notting Hill, feeling the eyes of every patron of the cafes and restaurants she passes staring at her through the glass windows. Liam chases behind her and catches up, out of breath. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Somewhere we can talk without people in restaurant windows gawking at us.” 

“Isn’t that the whole point?” 

She ignores him, and follows her feet that guide her from memory, taking her down the curves of the city roads she and Damon used to follow every morning when they were younger. She passes street vendors and tourists, florists and food stand owners calling out their daily prices. Finally, her and Damon’s favorite park comes into view. Large oak trees line the barrier between greenery and civilization. As she enters the park gates, she can see the small floral gardens, a family under the shade of a tree, and a glimmering pond on the far end of the park, where swans float on the water without a care in the world.

Liam heaves every breath dramatically as she leads him to a bench in the shade. They sit down and stare at the water. 

Liam glares at her. “Are you going to fuckin talk or what? You ruined my plan for this morning.” 

Justine watches the swans, and remembers an evening where Damon had been chased by an angry one into the water, and reached out for her hand to save them. The two of them had fallen in, and as she watches the pond now, she can almost see their past selves flailing like happy idiots, screaming profanities and laughing, coughing up water. 

“Liam, I don’t need to get back at Damon, okay? This whole ordeal is so juvenile. I had a weak moment last night bu-” 

“Oh please,” he says, nudging her knee with his. “Let me guess. Albarn was all-” Liam sits up straighter and clears his throat, turning his body to Justine and dropping his voice three octaves. “Oh, Justine my darling love angel sweetheart,” he bellows. “I’m sorry I fucked that girl but it meant nothing, please love me I’m an _alcoholic_ . I _need_ to sleep with other women otherwise I’ll _die,_ because I’m a big twat with low self confidence you can't fix because- well because” And then he pretends to cry, wiping away imaginary tears. “I’m in _Blur_.”

Justine suppresses a smile. “Are you done?” 

“Was I right?” 

“Not even close,” she says. But hearing Liam’s words makes her morning with Damon seem embarrassing all of a sudden. If it really meant nothing, why didn’t he ask her to leave with him instead? She hates parties, and he wasn’t even on tour to need someone else. She thinks of how shamelessly she had called his name for nearly an hour today, and starts to feel sick.

“You look worried,” says Liam. “Lovely! This is good.” 

“You’re a monster,” she groans. “Why do you have to make everything so confusing?” 

Liam pats her thigh cheerfully and stands up. “Well, you can cry about it later. The truth is, Albarn is a fucking whore, and he makes you look stupid, and he shags people even when you’re in the same city, and those people happen to be women I rather fancy.” 

Justine looks up at him to see Liam smiling ruefully down at her. He pushes his sunglasses up, and those electric eyes and thick dark lashes shoot her a wink. “Like what you see?” 

“As if. What did you have planned?” 

Justine wonders vaguely if the rest of her life is going to be spent in taxis wanting to kill Liam. 

Like an idiot, the first thing he did last night when he got home to Noel was to ask permission to fake date her, which Noel agreed to allow only if she passed a “trial run.” The trial run, as luck would have it, is the football match today of Man City vs. Chelsea, the team that Damon adores more than anything in the world. Lovely. 

“What is he, your mother?” cries Justine, banging her head against the window. “Why must you tell him everything?” 

“Noel is a genius,” says Liam. “It’s best to be honest with him. And besides, it’s not like I could hang out with your lot without him kicking me arse.” 

To Justine’s delight, he sounds defensive. “Ahh, right,” she says, straightening her back against the car seat. “Because he controls you, right. My apologies, I forgot you were just a sheep.” 

“I’m _no-_ ” 

“We’re here,” says their cab driver. Something wavers in his voice, and Justine catches the driver’s long stare in the rearview mirror. He looks nervous and she realizes they’ve been recognized. 

“Sir,” she says. “Please don’t say anything about seeing us in a cab together. I’ll pay you, anything, ju-” 

Liam throws a hand over her mouth. “ _No,_ ” he says. “Tell every paper you know that we were in your cab, and that we made out, and that she practically _begged_ me to-”

The driver clears his throat. “Um, listen, no offense but I have no idea who either of you are. I’m a bit late to see my wife in the hospital, so please kindly get out.” 

Faces flushed with embarrassment, Justine and Liam hurry out of the cab and board the sidewalk next to Liam’s expensive flat. The car speeds off down the street with a roar, and they watch it go. 

Liam turns to Justine. “Well, we’re a bunch of conceited cunts aren’t we?” 

“Yeah,” she giggles. “I guess we are.” 

Liam’s grin grows wider as he takes her hand and leads her up the white marble steps of his place. “That bastard was lucky his wife was sick, otherwise I would have given him an earful about how he’s missing out on the _greatest_ band in the _fucking_ world.” 

“Funny,” says Justine. She watches Liam fish his pockets for his keys and gets that horrible feeling again, that sometimes being with Liam is almost bearable. “I didn’t realize you know how wonderful Elastica is.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself darling,” says Liam. He frowns and reaches into his pockets again. “Where are my _damn-”_

Suddenly, the door swings open. There is Noel, dark brows raised in amusement, and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. “You left them at my place this morning, idiot.” 

And then Noel turns to Justine, giving her a twisted smile. “Justine,” he says. “Sleeping with the enemy are we?” 

“Hello, Noel. Are you going to let us in?” 

“Yeah, move aside you fat twat,” chides Liam. 

Noel turns wordlessly grinning to himself, sauntering into the sunny lit foyers of Liam’s place. Then follows Liam, and then Justine, who is already regretting answering her phone this morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not me writing this MONTHS later than promised 😭 thank you all for your sweet comments and suggestions I love u 🥺❤️


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